


It's All My Fault

by MsChievous



Series: Promptis Fan Week 2017 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Chapter 11 spoilers, Hurt/Comfort, I really am too mean to him, Injury, M/M, Poor Prompto, Slightly - Freeform, lots of literal hurt, serious injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 14:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12110973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsChievous/pseuds/MsChievous
Summary: Day 6 of Promptis Fan Week - ApologyNoctis does something that requires a huge apology





	It's All My Fault

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this beautiful comic](http://rkcart.tumblr.com/post/165086470241/what-if-noct-took-the-first-chance-he-was-given-to)!

He hates this train ride. The entire, Astrals-damned thing. Ignis and Gladio have just left to talk with someone about the longer nights, and Prompto is grabbing food from the train cart. Or he was. Prompto scrambles back towards where Noctis is sitting, nearly tripping over his own two feet in his haste.

“Whoa,” He yelps, “There you are buddy! Did you see this? It’s un _real._ ”

“Yeah,” Noctis hums, glancing out at the weird cloud formation over the mountains. While part of him is grateful to Prompto for at least attempting to lighten the atmosphere, he really doesn’t feel up to pretending that everything is alright right now. “Never seen anything like it. It doesn’t make any _sense_.”

When Noctis glances back towards Prompto, his heart freezes. There’s an odd aura in the train, it feels like it’s oppressing him, getting under his skin and making it tingle. And Prompto is no longer beside him.

Noctis gets out of his seat and looks around. Everyone looks like they are frozen in time, and a heady blue-grey light filters into the train car. “What’s going on?” He asks himself, turning around to see any clues about why he’s stuck in time. Perhaps one of the gods?

“It’s a _real_ mystery,” A familiar voice purrs, and Noctis knows at once that this is not the work of one of the gods, but of the devil himself. “I’m not liking that snow cloud,” Ardyn sighs, “Kind of gives me the chills. Like, who comes _up_ with this stuff? I couldn’t dream something like this if I _tried_.” Ardyn smiles and locks eyes with Noctis. “It’s a wonderous world.”

Anger burns in Noctis’ chest, and he lunges forward with a fist. “The _hell_ are _you_ doing here?” He grits out.

Ardyn dances out of the way, surprisingly nimble for an older man, and holds his hands up as if in surrender. “Whoa, what’s going on?” He cries, stumbling back a few paces before regaining his balance. He continues back as Noctis advances, “Easy there, buddy,” Ardyn tries to soothe, but the words only serve to anger Noctis further.

There’s a crystalline flash, and a familiar weight rests in Noctis’ hands. He slashes down with the Engine Blade, aiming for Ardyn’s chest, but the man is infuriatingly nimble, ducking out of the way so Noctis’ blade catches on empty air. “Shut _up!”_ He screams.

“Be _careful_ there,” Ardyn says, worry starting to taint the edge of his voice. Good. Ardyn _should_ be worried, he’s going to fucking _die_ if Noctis has any say in it. Then Ardyn freezes for a moment. “Wait-” He breathes, “Is this for real?” Then he turns and runs down the hallway of the train like the traitorous coward he is.

Noctis takes off after him, nearly careening into doors that don’t open fast enough for him. He’s half-tempted to just phase through them but figures he better save up his magic for ripping Ardyn apart piece by piece.

He thinks he has a chance when Ardyn trips and ducks into a sleeping cart, but when he heaves the door open, there’s nothing there. He presses his lips into a line, trying to figure out if maybe his brain is playing tricks on him, when a tentative voice from the side asks, “Uh, Noct?”

His brain barely has time to recognize Ardyn’s voice as his fist cuts wildly through the air, hitting nothing at all. “That son of a _bitch_ …” He’s left alone, hunched over and panting for breath, no doubt looking like a mad man, but _gods_ , he just needs to strangle the life out of Ardyn, or stab him, just like he stabbed Luna.

He takes off again, coming into the next train car, where Ardyn stopped to catch his breath. When Noctis enters, he can hear Ardyn’s breath hitch. “C’mon Noct, you’re _scaring_ me,” He says. When Noctis doesn’t respond, Ardyn says, “Seriously, man, cut it out!” before ducking into the next car.

Eventually, he’s going to run out of cars to escape on, and then Noctis will have his revenge, so Noctis takes off after him.

“It’s not safe,” Ardyn says, as if that will make a difference, “You’re causing a scene. Quit playing around, okay?”

_Causing a scene to who_ ? Noctis wants to bite back, _We’re the only ones moving._ But he’s so angry he can barely keep his nails from biting into his palms. Instead, he summons a sword and lobs a cut at Ardyn’s head.

_Fuck_ . When did he get so bad at _killing_ things? And how did Ardyn duck down that fast? “You think this is _funny_?” He demands, stumbling as his sword cuts through thin air.

Ardyn uses Noctis’ stumble to scramble to his feet and out the door. “Dude,” He asks carefully, as if he’s ready to throw up, “Are you seriously trying to kill me?” Ardyn doesn’t wait for a response as he slams the door shut behind him.

That throws Noctis for a loop for a second. “Why _wouldn’t_ I?” He growls, stalking over to the next train car. He throws the door open and sees Ardyn, pulling at the door to the next train car. It’s locked.

A wicked smile curls Noctis’ lips. “I’ve got you now…” He hisses, stalking closer as Ardyn bends at the knees, trying to regain his breath and appease Noctis at the same time.

“What’re you after, following me around this whole time? It’s all _your_ fault!” Noctis screams, summoning his sword and ramming it through Ardyn’s stomach. The man’s scream is music to his ears, until it turns into a chillingly familiar panting noise, and his mismatched clothes seem to shift into something painfully familiar.

Thin fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as Prompto, pinned to the wall by Noctis’ sword through his torso, heaves in a few breaths. “N-noct…” The word dissolves into a coughing fit, and blood seeps out of the blond’s mouth.

Noctis is frozen in shock, brain working overtime, trying to think how he could have stabbed Ardyn, but hit Prompto. He tries to take a step back, but Prompto’s grip on his shirt is strong.

More blood drips from the blond’s mouth as he gasps for breath, tears mixing with the blood.

“N-noct, ‘m…” He heaves in a breath, as if he’s dying (which, he probably is, but Noctis doesn’t want to think about that), “‘m sorry, I-”

Noctis takes a step forward, he needs to get the sword out of Prompto, needs to give him a curative, he has to _move_.

But as he takes a step forward, the train jerks, and he loses his balance and falls. His head smacks against something hard and metal, and he falls down into darkness.

 

* * *

 

When he comes back around, there’s a pain in the back of his head. He tries to sit up, but the dizziness overcomes him and he settles back down. There’s a prickling in the back of his mind, though, like he forgot to do homework and he was just walking into class.

All at once, the memory washes back into him. _Prompto_. He forces his body into a sitting position, blinking back the dizziness and swallowing the nausea, then forces his shaky legs to support his weight.

He looks at Prompto and almost loses consciousness all over again.

Prompto’s skin is nearly sheet-white, and there’s a puddle of blood that looks like someone spilled one of those giant bottles of cherry-flavored soda at his feet. It’s so much, it has to be _too_ much. Is he even _breathing_?

Shakily, Noctis holds his ungloved hand in front of Prompto’s nose and mouth. After a few heart wrenching seconds, he feels a puff of air against his hand, and it feels like he can breathe again.

Noctis’ hands shake as he reaches into the Armiger and pulls out a few elixirs and hi-potions. He sets them carefully on the ground, then reaches for the sword- _his_ sword- pierced through Prompto’s midsection. He _knows_ that generally you don’t remove an object lodged in the human body, but the elixirs will make sure he doesn’t lose too much more blood, he _can’t_ lose too much more blood, or he’ll probably die.

But a familiar ringing noise draws his attention to his phone, and he answers it swiftly, not even bothering to look at the caller. “This can wait,” He growls, prepared to end the call then and there, but then a gruff voice growls back.

“Daemons are attacking the train. You and Prompto get your asses out there and protect the people!”

Noctis’ throat closes up, but he manages to grit out, “ _Later_ ,” before ending the call. His phone rings again, but he ignores it.

Instead, he wraps one arm under Prompto’s armpits, turning so they were both facing the same way. With the other hand, Noctis gripped his sword and sent it back to the Armiger.

Immediately, blood flowed freely from Prompto’s wound and the blond collapsed to the ground. Noctis’ grip slowed him down, but the blond was too heavy to carry one-handed, so Noctis just dropped to his side and started uncorking the closest elixir.

Prompto’s body spasmed as the elixir did its job, knitting together the blood vessels, muscles, tendons, ligaments, and nerves the best it could before the magic waned, leaving a half-open wound. Noctis cracked open another elixir and was just in the process of dumping it all over the wound when Gladio bursts in, anger warping his face.

“What-” Gladio advances towards Noctis threateningly before catching sight of Prompto lying near-lifelessly on the ground, a puddle of too much blood pooled under his body. “What the fuck? What happened?”

Noctis ignores him and pours the other elixir into the wound. This one doesn’t quite close it all the way, so he dumps in another, until all that’s left is a thin scar. Then he uncorks the hi-potion and gently drips it down Prompto’s throat.

He finally breathes when it’s all gone, and the color returns to Prompto’s cheeks.

Gladio had left to defend the train, and, content with the knowledge that Prompto was safe for now, Noctis hurries out to join him.

 

* * *

 

Everything hurts, and feels fuzzy and jittery at the same time. What is happening? Where-

His thoughts are cut off as the memory hits him: Noctis, chasing him through the train, trying to kill him, _almost_ killing him…. Why isn’t he dead? How did Noctis not kill him?

Prompto opens his eyes blearily. He’s lying on a cool metal surface, staring up at a dull metal ceiling, slightly arched. He’s still on the train. But the train’s not moving…

He does his best to sit up, fighting waves of vertigo to get somewhat upright. There’s a puddle of blood under a slit in the wall of the train, and drag marks to where he’s laying. He tries not to think too hard, that all of that is his, and that _Noctis_ , of all people, did it to him.

Instead, he focuses on standing. It takes some time, but he eventually gets his feet under him. It’s slightly unsteady, but he presses his hand against the wall, and manages to stay standing.

He doesn’t know why Noctis isn’t here, why his former best friend left him here, but he’s not about to question it. He just opens the door and stumbles out. From the other side of the train, he can hear signs of a struggle, and Noctis yelling something.

So that’s where he went.

Hearing Noctis yelling like that only strengthens his determination to get away. He knows what kind of facial expression comes with that tone of voice, he had seen in when Noctis came after him, attacking him quite literally out of nowhere. So he stumbles towards the fence that separated the train tracks from the coastline and manages to get to the other side. It’s too low to allow him to walk comfortably, but he can definitely crawl, so he does that.

After what seems like an eternity, but is probably only five minutes, the train starts to chug along, heading off towards Tenebrae. Prompto peers over the edge of the fence and watches the train disappear around the bend, chased after by a fleet of drop ships.

He tears his gaze away and struggles into a standing position, confident that he can’t be seen now that the train and the drop ships are out of sight. It makes him feel light-headed to be upright, but he grips the edge of the fencing and forces his body forward. He needs to keep moving, needs to at least find a haven to rest at before the night falls. He still has several hours, but this is all new terrain.

He pulls himself to the other side of the railing, crossing the tracks as quickly as he can, then starts up the hill. If he can get to high ground, maybe he can spot a sign of a haven, or a stream he can follow to civilization, or even a small town or village.

He doesn’t know how much time passes when his phone starts ringing, and his blood freezes in his veins. He forgot he still had that in his pocket. _Fuck_. He whips it out of his pocket and glances at it. It’s Noctis, and his profile picture smiles deceitfully out at him.

Without even thinking about it, Prompto drops the phone on the ground and smashes it with his heel. The screen gives a satisfying _crack_ , but it keeps ringing. Prompto stomps on it again and again, before finally summoning his gun and shooting it at least five more times.

Now all that was left was a hunk of metal, so he picked it up and lobbed it as far as it would go, then immediately hurried off. They wouldn’t be able to track him now, he was safe.

He was-

He was passing out.

He barely had time to notice his greying vision and ringing ears and trembling limbs before his legs crumpled, and he planted face-first into the ground.

Faintly, he heard the crackling of footsteps across twigs from somewhere behind him. Please, don’t let it be Noctis, please let it be anyone but Noctis…

Vaguely familiar boots walks into view, nudging his cheek lightly. He hears a voice speaking from somewhere above him, but his body just shuts down, and he's sinking down into the inky void for a second time.

 

* * *

 

Noctis dials Prompto’s number again, but this time it goes straight to voicemail. “Fuck!” He shouts, barely containing his desire to throw his phone against the wall and instead attempted to crush the thing with his bare hands.

Thankfully, it doesn’t work.

“Noctis, you must contain yourself,” Ignis says levelly, “It’s apparent-”

“Yeah, it’s apparent I fucked up, I get it Iggy. No need to rub it in,” Noctis growls.

“I didn’t-”

“Hey, Ig? Do me a favor and shut the fuck up,” He snarls. Immediately, he regrets his words and starts to apologize, but it freezes in his mouth. “I-”

“I understand, Highness. It is a trying time for us all,” Ignis says.

“I am going to _kill_ Ardyn,” Noctis growls. “First, he makes me hurt Prompto, then he _kidnaps_ him? He’s just asking for the slowest, most _painful_ death I can provide.” Noctis’ eyes flash magenta for a moment and the air turns thick.

Gladio slaps his arm, not quite lightly enough for it not to be painful. “Isn’t that what got you into this mess in the first place?”

Noctis’ breath hitches, and his eyes burn. That was right, he was too quick, to rash about it. Looking back, he could see all the signs: “Ardyn” didn’t fight back, he used words and phrases that only Prompto would use, like “dude”, “man”, and “seriously”, words he hasn’t heard Ardyn use in his life.

“You’re right,” Noctis hisses, balling his hands into fists. “But this time, I’m gonna be sure to kill the _right_ one.”

 

* * *

 

For the first few seconds, he isn’t quite sure what wakes him.

Then he hears the words.

“...and it’s quite unfortunate, but I suppose such is the nature of friendship. It’s based on mutual trust, and when one member breaks that trust, hypothetically, by lying about their origins, then there can be no friendship.”

It’s Ardyn. Ardyn is talking.

Prompto groans, tries to shift, but the bonds are tight, keeping his arms at an uncomfortable angle. Every muscle aches, even muscles he didn’t know he had. He wants to cry, but that takes energy he just doesn’t have.

So he is relegated to watching Ardyn pace back and forth, helpless to do anything but squirm as the Chancellor occasionally drifts a finger or hand across Prompto’s face or chest.

“You know, it’s really sad. No one cares about you now. Your former friends dragged you halfway around the world, only to leave you for dead by the side of the train tracks,” Ardyn says with a grin, “Do your parents even know where you are?”

Ardyn must catch a glimpse of something in Prompto’s eyes, because his demeanor changes. “Oh, do they even _care_?” The pause is palpable, and Prompto’s lack of an answer seems to be answer enough. “Oh, that really is too sad. And you killed your biological father not even two days ago. You really are all alone in this world,” Ardyn exits the cell and locks it. Before he turns to go, however, Ardyn catches his eye and gives him a predatory grin.

“All alone, except for me.”

  


* * *

 

It’s official. Zegnautus Keep _officially_ sucks all kinds of ass. He has none of his weapons, none of his friends, and the ring he wears sucks up his life each time he uses it. But Ardyn said that Prompto was here, so here he fucking was.

He doesn’t know how long it is before he meets up with Gladio and Ignis, but it’s too long. He just wants to get the Crystal and get the fuck out of here. Luckily, his friends seemed to have regained control of their weapons, and between the three of them, they cut down everything in front of them.

Then they see him.

Prompto’s strung up on some device whose purpose Noctis doesn’t want to think about right now. He’s pale and covered in scars and bruises, but he looks okay. Not like he’s dying, at least. That’s a good thing.

Noctis opens the cell and rushes to Prompto’s side. He can’t even meet Prompto’s half-conscious gaze as he frantically slams the button that looks like it’ll release him.

The metal cuffs creak open, and Gladio quickly catches Prompto’s falling body before it can hit the ground, easing it down instead.

Prompto’s eyes are half-lidded, and he’s muttering something unintelligible under his breath. He doesn’t even seem to realize they’re in the room with him.

“Fuck,” Gladio says, and Noctis can’t help but to agree.

“The was a dormitory nearby, we can rest there, and allow Prompto to recuperate from his trauma,” Ignis says softly.

Noctis nods dumbly, and they head back the way they came. Honestly, the dormitory leaves a lot to be desired, but there are beds, it can be locked from the outside, and there are no loudspeakers, so it’s practically a sanctuary.

They’re all exhausted, but no one falls asleep. Prompto shifts slightly, but his mumbles have died down, and nothing fills the dormitory but the deep sound of his breathing.

After a while, Prompto’s breathing hitches, and he mumbles something. Slowly, he pulls himself into something that vaguely resembled a sitting position, looking around blearily. Then he locks eyes with Noctis and scrambles out of bed with a yelp, hitting the ground with an audible _thump_.

Noctis takes a worried step forward, but Prompto’s already on his feet again, backing towards the door.

“Stay… stay back!” He yells, flexing his hand as if he’s trying to summon his gun.

Everyone freezes. “Prompto,” Noctis says carefully, “Prompto, it’s just us. We’re here to help,”

Prompto’s eyes narrow, then his fingers dance across his stomach. “I don’t believe you,” He hisses, fingers clenching in the fabric of his torn tank top.

Noctis’ heart sinks. “Prompto, I-I’m sorry, it wasn’t _you_ , I-I saw _Ardyn_ , I thought you were _Ardyn_ ! I wouldn’t have done it to you, I _saved_ you.”

There’s a pause, filled with Prompto’s heaving breaths. But slowly, they even out, and he glances from Noctis to Gladio, to Ignis.

“I-how can I believe you?” He asks. His voice is shaky, but his gaze is steady as it glances over them.

“Prompto, I would _never_ want to hurt you. You could be _actively_ trying to kill me, but I wouldn’t be angry enough to kill you,” Noctis says, meeting Prompto’s eyes. His own start to burn at the mistrust he sees in his best friend’s eyes.

Ever so slowly, Prompto’s fingers unclench from his shirt, and his breathing slows.

“Prompto, I swear it, may Bahamut strike me down if I lie, I would never have done that to you, and I am so, so, so, _so,_ sorry!” Noctis bites his lip and looks down. He can’t meet Prompto’s face. He _knows_ he fucked up, and now Prompto hates him, as he should. “W-we can help you out of Gralea, then… then you can do whatever you want, you don’t have to stay with us.” It hurts to say, but he knows that Prompto needs to feel able to leave to feel safe.

“I-I _want_ to stay with you,” Prompto whispers, no longer looking like he was going to book it.

“You can if you want, I would _love_ for you to stay. But… but if you feel unsafe, I-I don’t want you to feel that way.”

Prompto’s lip quivers, and he shuffles over to Noctis, who’s gone stock-still. “Everything you said was to Ardyn?” He asked, “Like the punch, and the sword and the ‘It’s all your fault’?”

Noctis’ heart clenches and he has to wipe away the beginnings of tears. “Yes!” He shouts, so loud that it startles Prompto, and he lowers his volume, “Yes, all of it was to Ardyn, I...I saw _Ardyn,_ not you, I promise.”

Without warning, Prompto lunges at Noctis, wrapping his arms tightly around Noctis’ shoulders. “I’m so glad,” He said.

Noctis returns the hug with one of his own, keeping a possessive grip and burying his face in the blond’s hair. “Prompto, I am so sorry, I know I’ll never make it up to you, but I’ll keep trying,”

**Author's Note:**

> I did mention in my first fic that I was also planning on doing a fic for the last day, but my inspiration has run dry, and already this week kinda wrung me out. So I'm just gonna let myself off the hook. Sorry for anyone who was looking forward to it, but.... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
